


The Ghost of Christmas Past

by AlexiHollis



Category: In the Heights - Miranda
Genre: Child Neglect, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, and tries his best to help, benny realized something was up waaayyy earlier, but with sonny comes usnavi, i make graffiti pete sad and try to help by giving him sonny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2019-11-07 08:53:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17957459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiHollis/pseuds/AlexiHollis
Summary: Sonny finds a Christmas Card from Pete's family, asking him to come home for the holidays - revealing somewhat shocking truths about Pete's relationship with his familyAKAThe Christmas fic that is super duper late but being posted (AS A WIP AS WELL) anyway





	1. Chapter 1

Usnavi could barely stand Graffiti Pete on a good day, especially since Sonny revealed the two had been dating over a year in October. Now nearly Christmas, the bodega saw more business than ever, yet what was Sonny doing on his shift? _Not_ checking out customers or doing stock or even sweeping. No, he was talking to Pete while _Usnavi_ tried to juggle all three.

The only reason Usnavi hadn’t kicked Pete out yet was the rather murderous look on Sonny’s face and the way Pete kept nervously rubbing the back of his neck. _Maybe a Christmas miracle would come early…_ While Usnavi treasured Abuela’s mural, this was his baby cousin Pete decided to seduce.

The last person checked out, but Pete still stood at the far end of the counter with Sonny. Usnavi hadn’t seen Sonny this worked up since election season. _They did decide to have this conversation in the shop, after all…_ Usnavi subtly slid himself closer to the couple.

“-family, Pete!”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that, Son,” Pete went to grab something from Sonny, but the younger teen pulled away, “C’mon, give it back.”

“No, you’re just gonna throw it away.”

“When did you take it upon yourself to go through _my_ mail, anyway?”

“When your heat got turned off last month because you forgot to check _your_ mail.” Pete winced. “And don’t change the subject!” Sonny went as far as to wag a finger at Pete; Usnavi suppressed a laugh at the mental recall of a much younger Sonny copying Abuela when she scolded the older neighborhood kids years and years ago.

“I’m not going and, trust me, they don’t want me to go.”

“Why wouldn’t they want you to go? They sent you the card _and_ an address.” Sonny crossed his arms. “Pete. They’re your _family._ When’s the last time you saw them? Have they ever even been here?”

“No, they haven’t and for good reason. Please, can you just drop it?”

“You can’t be alone on Christmas.”

Usnavi tried to swallow his guilt at Sonny’s own pained assertion. Sonny begged Usnavi to let him invite Pete to Christmas dinner; of course Usnavi said no, because the Rosarios were coming and Mr. Rosario was no where near comfortable with Sonny being gay and Usnavi was working very hard to keep that away from Sonny not to mention Pete was an actual vandal who Usnavi had been chasing around since Pete showed up five years ago.

Five years ago…

Wait.

“Pete, how old are you?” Usnavi blurted out, turning to look at the two.

“Um…sorry, what?” Sonny turned to look at his cousin as if he’d grown a third head as Pete stammered his question in confusion and surprise.

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen…sir,” Pete added quickly.

Five years. And his family had never been here…

“He’s only two years older, cos.” Sonny’s eyes narrowed.

Usnavi suddenly felt a lot worse about himself than he did five seconds prior. “Pete, why don’t you come to dinner on Christmas?”

“What?” Sonny exclaimed and Pete just stared at Usnavi.

“You heard me,” Usnavi went to making a fresh pot of coffee, trying to ignore the weird feeling of guilt biting at his consciousness. Fuck. Fourteen. How did he not realize…? Then again, he himself was only twenty-two at the time and Sonny’s mom had just passed away…

How the hell did no one…Maybe Usnavi was wrong. Maybe he’d only been around for about two and it just felt like longer.

Yea. That must be it.

“I mean, that’s great.” Sonny looked back at Pete. “You know I would love to have you over, but…this is your family-”

“I’m in. Thanks, Usnavi.”

Except, Usnavi could clearly remember Sonny asking if he and Pete would be in high school together. He’d said no – because the punk was surely at least senior…but Sonny was only in eighth grade at that time (fifteen was a little bit better, but not _much_ especially since he _knew_ Pete had been around a good deal before that conversation).

Pete leaned over the counter and kissed Sonny’s cheek. “I gotta go run an errand real quick, see ya later.” Then out the door the artist went.

Right after the door swung shut: “Seriously, Navi? Now is the time you pick to not hate his guts?”

“I still don’t like him and I think you could do better.” Usnavi shrugged, stirring the coffee, trying to ignore the awful churning in his stomach.

Abuela Claudia wouldn’t have let that happen. Something _must_ be wrong with his memory…

Someone would have done _something_.

Sonny continued to glare.

“What did I do now?”

“Even someone as oblivious as you has to realize I was tryin’ to get him to have Christmas with his actual family,” Sonny waved the card still in his hand.

“Where do they live, anyway?” He couldn’t have been thrown out at least, Usnavi tried to convince himself. He must have ran away.

“Florida.” Kind of far to run away, especially for someone like Pete. Maybe he had been thrown out, but they regretted it. Pete did seem the kind to hold a grudge.

“And how exactly was he gonna get to Florida?” Then, again, Usnavi had seen moments when Pete became incredibly dedicated (though they were usually in attempts to make Usnavi further miserable). He must have ran away, but he must have had a reason; probably not one of those ‘get attention’ run away cases, though that would definitely calm any guilt still sitting in Usnavi’s stomach.

“They sent a plane ticket.”

Usnavi turned away from the coffee maker, “They sent a what now?” There is _no_ reason to run away from a family like that.

“Exactly!” Sonny threw his hands in the air. “He’s willing to waste all that money and I just…I don’t understand.” He put the card down on the counter and Usnavi peeked at it.

A nice, big smiling family. A nice, big, _pretty obviously fucking wealthy_ family. A family that doesn’t kick out a kid or give them a real reason to run away. Usnavi felt calmer; he never did like Pete and he couldn’t stand someone who couldn’t be grateful for a blessing.

* * *

 

Of _course_ they’d send a fucking card. They _always_ sent a card. Pete wanted to bash his head against the alley wall he was painting. He knew Sonny had been going through his mail, but he never thought he’d come across the stupid card. And _of course_ he would insist Pete go, because this was _family_ and Sonny lost most of his in middle school. How ungrateful must Pete look in his eyes?

“You must be having a really shit day man,” a voice sounded from behind him, causing Pete to paint a jagged line across the piece. Didn’t matter, couldn’t remember what he was trying to paint in the first place.

He turned around to see Benny leaning on the opposite wall, close to the street, still in his work uniform.

“Why’d ya say that?”

“You didn’t hear me call your name the first time, or the next three. Must be pretty deep in your thoughts.” Benny explained. “What’s going on?”

Pete didn’t know what he’d done to make the older man like him. Or at least tolerate him enough to talk to him like an actual person. Even after he and Sonny came out, most of the community watched him with wary eyes. Annoying as hell considering that even at his most desperate he’d never stolen so much as an apple.

“Well, apparently I’m going to the de la Vegas’ apartment for Christmas dinner?” Pete still couldn’t comprehend that and honestly he couldn’t decide which Christmas activity would be worse: that or his own family. Nevermind, definitely his family.

“That’s a bad thing?” Benny raised an eyebrow.

“C’mon, man, everyone hates me.” Pete’s eyes avoided Benny. “Its whatever, but I don’t really make it a habit to hang out where I’m not wanted.”

Benny scoffed, “Something tells me Usnavi would disagree.” Pete could feel his face fall further and Benny’s joking demeanor with it. “Aw, come on, I was just messing. You know Sonny loves having you around.”

Pete tossed the spray can from hand to hand and nodded, “Yea.”

“Listen, I’m gonna be there with Nina and her folks. Anyone gives you too much shit, I’ll be right there, okay?” Benny clapped Pete on the shoulder. “It’s okay to be nervous, but I bet Sonny is excited as hell right now about it.”

“I guess.”

Benny’s eyebrows furrowed. Pete turned and put the can his hands back in his backpack before hoisting it onto his shoulder.

“I’m gonna ditch before a beat cop comes. See ya at the dinner, Benny.”

“Bye, Pete!” Benny called as Pete ran down the sidewalk.

Benny turned to look at what Pete painted. And stared. One of Pete’s favorite tags was a patched together heart, explaining it once as pieces making up the whole of a person, but this one was covered over in black. Logically, he knew it was from when he startled Pete, but Pete always said there are no mistakes in art.

Benny quickly snapped a picture on his phone before continuing on his way.

* * *

 

The next day, Usnavi kept a close eye on the street and, when he saw Pete turn the corner, turned to Sonny. After he came upon his logical conclusion, he realized the perfect solution to his Pete problem – get Pete to go back home. The second he saw his family again, he would realize was a stupid decision it was to ever leave. Then, he would be in Florida.

Far away from New York.

Far away from the block, the bodega, and, most importantly, Sonny.

“Hey, run out the back way and get some change from the bank,” Usnavi said handing a paper-clipped wad of cash to Sonny.

“Um…okay?” Sonny took the cash. “I just went two days ago, though?”

“It’s Christmas,” Usnavi waved him away right as Pete entered, the two just missing each other, giving Usnavi the greatest possible amount of time. “Hey, Pete.”

“Oh, uh, hi, Usnavi, um, sir, hi, sir?”

“You don’t need to call me sir.” That was actually a bit annoying and…maybe reintroduced the guilt just a tad.

“Is Sonny around?” Pete asked, shoving his hand in his pocket.

“He just ran to the bank to get some change. He’ll be back soon.”

Pete nodded. He shifted his eyes away as he rocked on the balls of his feet slightly. Usnavi shuffled through the junk mail sitting by the cash register.

“You’ve lived here about five years, right?” He did need an exact time-frame, though. More information could only lead to better results. Hopefully.

“Um. Yea. Just-Just about.”

“What causes a fourteen year old to move alone cross country?” He pretended to be perusing an ad for perfume. _Actually this might be useful for Nessa’s birthday_ …He nearly forgot his own question, distracted by his girlfriend, until the clattering of cans reveals that not only had Pete dropped his own bag of spray cans, but also backed into the shelf of canned food, knocking half of them onto the floor. “Wha-Hey!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Pete immediately dropped to his knees to begin restacking the cans now rolling along the tile floor.

Usnavi moved out from behind the counter, picking up cans himself. “Jesus, didn’t mean to startle you that bad.”

“It’s none of your business.” Pete bit out suddenly, looking up at Usnavi with an anger he didn’t know the younger man to be near capable. Not to mention the disrespect, minutes after stammering over sirs.

“Might I remind you that you are dating my still-technically-a-minor cousin? Who lives under _my_ roof? It doesn’t matter if he’s the age of consent, I am still his legal guardian.”

Usnavi could have smacked himself right there. This was not what he wanted, not what he planned, Jesus Christ.

But this was supposed to be an easy conversation. Pete wasn’t supposed to be looking like Usnavi wanted to feed him to the mother of all monsters. But that look passed. And Pete just looked angry.

“So that means what? You can finally ask why the fuck a kid just showed up on your block five years ago alone? You didn’t care when you ran me off that first night. I had _money_ , you _asshole!”_ Pete was now standing and screaming and Usnavi realized there might be a bit more going on than anger at Usnavi’s questions because Pete suddenly looked  more tired than Usnavi had ever seen a person.

But _fuck_. Usnavi remembered that night. All he had seen was a dirty kid in even dirtier clothing walking around his store and the second he grabbed something off the shelf, Usnavi was yelling. It had been a rough year – he didn’t need merchandise disappearing off the shelves.

“What the hell is going on?” In the shouting, neither noticed the backdoor open or Sonny come into the shop. “Pete, what’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing!” He shoved off the hand Sonny placed on his bicep, causing Sonny to pull his hand away as if burned. “It’s…” Pete swallowed once, twice. “It’s nothing.”

“What did you do?” It must have been surprise the hell out of Usnavi day; he hadn’t seen Sonny that angry at him since Easter of 2003 when he ate the last of the peeps.

“I was just having a friendly conversation,” Usnavi noticed the money in Sonny’s fist. The two hundred dollars were _not_ changed into pennies like instructed. “You didn’t go to the bank.”

“Did you _really_ want forty thousand pennies?” _That_ look, Usnavi knew well. “I’m not an idiot and I figured you were trying to kick me out because of-of Christmas presents or something!” Sonny quickly flipped back to anger. “You weren’t supposed to be harassing my boyfriend.”

Pete’s face drained of color, “How much did you hear?”

Sonny took a moment and bit his lip, “I only heard the cans and when you started yelling…”

Usnavi realized – Sonny knew something he didn’t. Because he felt like he had to lie, but Usnavi knew exactly where Sonny hid (the same place he always did, the crevice right behind the doorway that Usnavi always forgot about) and knew Sonny could hear a pin drop from there.

Sonny’s eyes flicked between Usnavi and Pete. “Is there something I need to know?”

“No,” Pete said. “It’s fine.”

“ _Carino-_ ” Sonny’s attention was fully on Pete now and Usnavi was beginning to realize how big a fuck up this had really been. The two _never_ called each other nicknames or endearments in front of people – Nina had tried to explain that this was actually a bit concerning, saying she thought it meant the two didn’t feel completely safe in their surroundings, but Usnavi had just been glad as it made it easier to ignore the relationship. Usnavi had definitely not done anything to make them feel more comfortable (he ignored the voice in his head that sounded like Nessa scolding him that he had actually actively done the opposite), so Sonny calling Pete _carino…_

“I’m fine,” Pete insisted, pulling farther away. Somewhere along the way he had picked up his bag and was clutching it to his chest. “I’m…I’m gonna go.” He began walking to the door. “I’ll see you later, Sonny.” He bolted.


	2. Chapter 2

Pete _sprinted_ back to his apartment.

He knew Usnavi hated him. It wasn’t even a poorly kept secret – Usnavi was _incredibly_ vocal on all of the ways Pete fell short in life. But, y’know, it didn’t _really_ matter. It wasn’t like he thought the mural would change anything and he had actually thought the whole coming out situation would get him run off the block.

Pete was well-aware of his lot in life – a small apartment in a not-so-great part of town, spending most of his days on a block where people didn’t trust or like him and getting cash through mostly odd jobs and, if he was particularly lucky, commissions on his artwork (though those had actually been increasing lately). He didn’t expect anything to change and, as long as he had Sonny, wasn’t too anxious to go about changing them. He got by _just fine._

He reached his apartment and, after fumbling with his keys thanks to unusually shaky fingers, let himself inside before closing it behind him, sliding down the door until he was sat on the floor. He put his bag next to him and let himself breathe.

Then laughed at himself.

It had been almost a year and a half since it didn’t matter what kind of questions people asked. He was _officially_ an adult now – no one could send him back, no one could come looking for him. He took care of himself – had always had a roof over his head and water, food most of the time, and he just needed to keep Sonny out of the apartment whenever he needed to shut off his heat to pay for the previous three.

However, being sent back had been his biggest fear since he was fourteen years old and maybe it was the way Usnavi asked or the fact that first encounter had been the first time Pete realized how bad being sent back would be, but when Usnavi started probing Pete certainly felt fourteen again.

He sat on the floor, trying to force himself to calm down, not caring as the day passed by him.

Then, he heard the window sliding open.

Startled he jolted up, standing up so his view of his window was no longer blocked by his futon, and saw his boyfriend (sweet, amazing, _idiotic_ Sonny) climbing through the window from the fire escape (how the hell did he manage that exactly?). Pete couldn’t make out any fine details, like the color of Sonny’s shirt, which was confusing until he realized it was dark outside except for the dim streetlights and the lights weren’t on inside. He flicked on the lamp closest to him, causing Sonny to startle slightly and look up at him.

“Pete!” Sonny scrambled the rest of the way and then stood up, rushing to him. “Where the _fuck_ is your phone?!” Sonny punched his taller boyfriend in the bicep. “You absolute asshole, I’ve been worried sick!”

“Uh,” Where was his phone? “It must still be in my bag.” He gestured to where it was laying – the same place he put it when he arrived.

Sonny cocked his head slightly, “Did…did you just get home?”

Pete shook his head silently, walking over to the bag and placing it into the closet that it called home. In such a small apartment, Pete did his best to minimize the clutter – he never let things sit in places that they did not belong.

Sonny was well aware of this.

“Fuck.” Pete didn’t need to ask if Sonny realized the basics of what Pete had done that day after leaving the bodega. “I’m sorry, my cousin’s an asshole.”

“No, it’s fine. I get it,” Pete shrugged.

He didn’t know what to do, standing there in the middle of his apartment with Sonny staring at him. He didn’t know what to say or how to say it and Christmas was two days away and the place tickets were for Christmas Eve, but there was no _way_ he was going, but maybe that’s why Sonny actually came over…

And so his thoughts spiraled. Over and over, until he realized he couldn’t breathe.

* * *

 

Sonny knew anxiety attacks pretty well thanks to the overall shit-iness of the average middle school child. He didn’t get them much anymore, not since people started leaving him alone when he hit his growth spurt and started being seen more often with Graffiti Pete in freshman year, but if he had a particularly stressful week or a presentation, they would come to the surface once more.

And Pete was always amazing when that happened. He seemed to always know exactly what to do at the perfect time to calm Sonny down as quickly and gently as possible.

Seeing him hyperventilation and shaking, Sonny was faced with the sudden and harsh reality that he didn’t have a clue what to do when on the other side of the equation.

“Pete,” Sonny slowly walked over to Pete and tried to get his attention. He gently grabbed his hand. “Pete, Pete, c’mon…” At a loss, Sonny looked about the room – the futon. He began to tug on Pete’s hand. “C’mon, let’s go sit down. You know that always helps me, I’m sure it’ll make you feel better.”

Pete allowed himself to be lead and Sonny sat him down on the futon, sitting down next to him and nearly on his lap. With himself, he knew physical contact was nice – he just hoped Pete was the same way.

“Alright,” Sonny took a deep breath, feeling his own nerves rising within him. “Okay. This.” He put a hand on Pete’s chest. Pete finally looked at him. “Yeah, this needs to be slower. You know that.” Sonny guided Pete’s hand to his own chest. “Breathe with me, okay. In.” Pete took a deep, hissed breath. Sonny counted in his head and Pete just stared at him with large eyes. “Out.” Pete obeyed. “In.” Count. “Out.”

They followed the pattern, Sonny murmuring soft words of encouragement and, before long, Sonny had kicked off his shoes and was as curled against Pete as he could be. Pete’s breathing returned to normal and he appeared more than exhausted.

Sonny rested his chin on Pete’s shoulder and Pete turned his head to look at him, their noses barely touching.

“Hey,” Sonny kept his voice soft and smiled. “How you feeling?”

“Like I just got hit by a bus,” Pete grumbled, then smiled. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Sonny rested his cheek on Pete’s shoulder and scooched closer. “I – I would do anything for you. You know that, right?” Sonny felt Pete rest his cheek on top of his head.

“I’m not going home for Christmas.” Pete said. Sonny didn’t say anything; he felt as Pete took a deep breath. “But I’m not going to go to the dinner, either.”

Sonny could feel the muscles beneath his cheek tense and sighed to himself. Nina had lectured him on this over and over again: he wanted to help everyone all of the time, but he had a tendency to steam roll whoever he was helping because he had a very specific view on what would best help. Apparently, he needed to listen more.

“That’s fine, Pete,” Sonny said. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You can just be here and do whatever you want and I’ll come over right after breakfast. We can spend the day together –”

“Sonny, I know you have about three million traditions for Christmas,” he could hear the teasing tone in Pete’s voice, but it was nice. It felt normal and Sonny felt worse for seeing how hard Pete was trying to make it _normal_. “I never really cared too much about Christmas anyway. It isn’t that big of a deal.”

But it was, Sonny wanted to say, because this was Christmas and nineteen was way too young to decide you didn’t care about Christmas unless you didn’t celebrate it.

Instead, he said, “If you ever want to talk about it…I’m here for you.” He turned to look at Pete again, forcing eye contact, “I love you.”

This wasn’t the first time they’d said it, but Sonny adored the look that took over Pete’s face every time he said it: the tiny blush high on his cheeks and the little hint of a smile. He never got to say it as much as he would like; Sonny was well-aware how jumpy Pete became when they ventured anywhere near PDA (which, sadly, included things as small as holding hands – though Sonny would never do anything to make Pete uncomfortable and respected his wishes to their fullest extent). This time, though, Pete’s eyes also shimmered with unshed tears.

Pete leaned down and pressed a long kiss to Sonny’s forehead, “I love you, too. So much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews = updates :)


	3. Chapter 3

Usnavi liked Christmas enough – it was a nice excuse to gather around friends and family, eat way too much food, drink way too much alcohol and put away the problems of daily life. Sonny, on the other hand, _loved_ the holiday with an almost terrifying vigor. The second Thanksgiving ended, he decorated the entirety of the apartment and usually attempted to buy a tree that didn’t even have a chance of fitting in the apartment. Christmas mornings, he woke up at no later than seven, even if he couldn’t be bribed to be up earlier than nine on any other school-free day. When Abuela was still alive, Usnavi would go to the kitchen to find the two of them wearing horrific sweaters and making special pancakes with red and green sprinkles while eating the similarly decorated sugar cookies baked the night before. After she passed, Sonny kept the tradition alive, calling Nessa over and having Usnavi bawling like a baby when he woke. When breakfast was finished, Usnavi and Sonny both began making their respective dishes for the dinner potluck. Throughout the day, there would be endless Christmas carols – playing on the radio or Sonny singing them himself. Sonny refused to let the holiday be anything but absolutely over-the-top, claiming the need for each Christmas to be the _best_ Christmas.

When Usnavi woke up that morning, he didn’t hear the expected chatter or even the radio. A glance at his clock told him it was already eight-thirty, nearly a full half-an-hour later than he could ever remember Sonny letting him sleep on the holiday. Slowly, he climbed out of bed. It was definitely Christmas day, he had even remembered to bake the cookies yesterday with Sonny. Though, it had taken an almost significant amount of goading to get the teenager to get out of his room long enough to bake them.

Walking into the kitchen, he saw Nessa and Sonny – Nessa flipping pancakes at the stove while Sonny just sat at the kitchen table, still in his pajamas, but not his Christmas pajamas.

“Usnavi!” Nessa’s smile was noticeably tight. “We’re running a bit late. _Someone_ ,” she gestured to the disinterested Sonny, “was still asleep when I got here!” She tried to make her tone joking, teasing, but it fell flat.

“You feeling okay, Son?” Usnavi asked, even as he moved to kiss Nessa on the cheek.

Sonny shrugged.

Usnavi blinked, then looked around the kitchen. “Where’s the radio?”

Sonny shrugged again.

Nessa waved Usnavi towards her before whispering, “How long has he been like this?”

“I-I don’t know,” Usnavi ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, he didn’t seem that into baking the cookies yesterday. And he forgot to buy the sprinkles, so we couldn’t decorate them.”

“I noticed,” Nessa pointed her spatula at the plate of plain pancakes. “Usnavi, something’s wrong.”

“I know that,” Usnavi fidgeted. “What do I do?”

“Are you serious?” Nessa looked like she wanted to hit him with her spatula. “Go talk to him, you dork!” She flipped the last pancake and put the plate of them into the heated oven. “Listen, I’ll go into the living room to give you some privacy, okay?”

Usnavi nodded and she left for the other room.

“Sonny, what’s going on?” Usnavi sat down across the table from Sonny, who was resolutely staring at the tabletop. “C’mon, talk to me.”

“I’m fine.”

Of course, _now_ , he started to act like a teenager was “supposed” to act. Brilliant timing.

“You are an awful liar. Out with it.” Sonny still didn’t say anything. “You love Christmas and you suddenly don’t want to have anything to do with making breakfast or listening to the carols?”

“No, I just…” Sonny shrugged again. “I’m not feeling it this year.”

“Sonny…” The teenager didn’t look at him, instead picking at the skin around his fingernails. “Is this about Pete?”

Sonny laughed, watery and heart-breaking. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s about Pete.” He took a breath and his eyes shot up to meet Usnavi’s before going back down to his hands. “He-He’s not coming. To dinner.”

Oh, God. Usnavi didn’t think he’d ever felt worse – other than when Nessa surgically removed his head from his ass about why Sonny started experiencing separation anxiety after the whole “up and moving to DR” situation.

“Is it because of what I said?” Usnavi’s mouth felt dry as he forced out the words.

“A little,” Sonny bit at his lip again, hesitating. “I don’t think he was every actually going to go…”

Usnavi’s eyebrows furrowed.

“I mean, I think _he thought_ he was gonna go,” Sonny amended, “but he was dreading it. The second it seemed like it would be worse than he already thought, he wasn’t going to come. So, yeah, it’s a bit your fault, but it’s mostly mine.”

Usnavi adored his little cousin – his little cousin who loved the world, but knew it needed to change, would _force_ it to change, to accept him and the people he loved. But he also knew Sonny and his propensity to blame himself for things completely outside of his control.

“How on Earth is Pete not wanting to come to Christmas dinner _your_ fault?”

Sonny rolled his eyes, “ _That’s_ not.”

Usnavi waited, confused and needing more information from Sonny’s brilliant, strange brain.

“I shouldn’t have been pushing him about this, it isn’t my business,” Sonny finally broke. “Yeah, I’m his boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean I’m entitled to everything about him. Not until he gives me that information, _voluntarily_. But…I never gave him the space to do that.” Sonny rubbed at his eyes. “This whole thing started because his family sent him a Christmas card and I was stupid, and overeager, and naïve and I wanted him to go. The problem is,” Sonny laughed, again, sullen, “I’m stupid enough to go _poking_ around, but smart enough to find things I’m not supposed to.”

“Okay, first of all, you aren’t stupid,” Usnavi interrupted. “Naïve, maybe a little bit, but you are the smartest kid I know.

Sonny smiled a little bit, “Thanks, cos.” He sighed, “Anyway. I got curious. About Pete and his family, because he never says anything about them. Hell, I don’t even know where his family’s _from_ , I was starting to think he materialized a fourteen-year old punk sent to harass you.”

Usnavi chuckled a bit at the joke; there had often been times the thought ran his own mind, when there seemed to be no one to call to complain about the ruffian (like hell he’d call the cops on a _Latino teenager_ ).

“I figured they must have some online presence, because – you saw the card,” Sonny waved his hand. “I went to the library the day before yesterday and I looked them up – his dad’s a real-estate developer. In Orlando. His mom doesn’t even work and they live in this massive mansion with their three daughters, but it said nothing about Pete. So, I did some more digging, and I found _one_ reference of him, in a tiny article…talking about his acceptance into an amazing high school with focus on the arts!” Sonny’s arms went up in the air and Usnavi continued to watch him. “But that doesn’t make sense, right?! Because Pete would literally _kill a man_ for an opportunity like that!” Sonny went quiet.

Usnavi waited, but Sonny didn’t say anything. “Okay?”

“Well, the school’s here, in New York, right?” Usnavi nodded along. “They’re a boarding school, so their administration and dorms stay open most of the year. So yesterday before work, I went to the school to ask for his student record. He attended for three and a half months. Then, he disappeared.”

“He dropped out.”

Sonny shook his head, “No, he disappeared. There was supposed to be a full investigation, the police started one, but it didn’t really go anywhere because his _parents_ blocked it. They said he’d always been a loose cannon and didn’t want to waste police time on what was most likely a run-away.” Sonny’s face pinched, like he’d swallowed a lemon. “His _parents_. And, I mean, yeah, he ran away, but that’s just not right. And do you know when he ran away?”

Usnavi sighed, “Right before Christmas break.”

“And I started thinking, that’s really weird, so I was thinking on it, because I felt like I had all the pieces, just in a weird order and I couldn’t figure it out. Then, you and Pete had that fight, so I didn’t really think about it, but I went to his apartment. And when I was at his apartment,” Sonny suddenly pinked. “I, erm, remembered something.”

“Uh-huh,” Usnavi’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What did you remember?”

Sonny cleared his throat, “Pete has scars. On his back. They’re kind of thin and long and when I asked about them, he said they were from a skateboarding accident.”

Usnavi felt his stomach drop and decided to ignore the clear opportunity to tease Sonny for ogling his boyfriend’s bare back, “But you don’t think they’re from a skateboarding accident.”

Sonny shook his head, eyes filled, “I think I’ve just been torturing Pete. And I _never noticed._ I’ve known him for _five years_ and I never noticed.” Sonny swiped at his eyes, head hanging. “ _God_.”

“Hey, hey,” Usnavi scooted his chair closer to Sonny, putting a hand on the arm closest. “Sonny, no one noticed. He didn’t want anyone to notice.”

“Usnavi, I’m his boyfriend!” Sonny groaned. “I’m held to a slightly higher standard than people who couldn’t care less if he ended up in the freaking Hudson!” He was gnawing at his lower lip now, before abruptly standing. “I’m going to Pete’s.”

“Wha – Sonny!”

“I’ll be back for dinner!” He promised, pulling on his jacket. Before grabbing his keys, though, he grabbed a bag of ingredients from the fridge, shaking it at Usnavi slightly. “I’ll even cook my dish there.”

“I thought you didn’t want to shove Christmas at Pete anymore?” Usnavi asked as Sonny began undoing the locks.

“I have a plan!” Just like that, he was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

Buyer’s remorse was a beast Pete wrestled with frequently. Every now and then, when he needed to shell out extra cash for some unforeseen expense, he caught himself looking at his microwave. Because did he _really_ need a microwave when the apartment came with an oven?

Considering how many cup noodles he ate in a week, yes, but that was beside the point.

The one item he _never_ regretted buying was his futon – his amazing, fluffy futon. For a good three years, his sleeping arrangement consisted of a broken camping cot and a sleeping bag – easily portable for moving around the abandoned warehouses. At seventeen, when he could finally get an apartment in a building with a kindly, old, definitely has at least some form of dementia landlady, he moved up to an inflatable mattress. Sometime between then and her death, Abuela Claudia pulled him a side and pointed him towards the Ortega’s, who sold nearly their whole apartment when they moved, and they gave him a great deal on an even better futon. And Pete _loved_ his futon. He never slept so soundly before buying the thing and at night, lying on it with a locked door and window between him and the rest of the world and a cell phone dinging with one last goodnight text from Sonny, Pete actually felt like a human being in the world.

It also meant he slept like the dead: not a scary thought, until he woke up to his lovely, adorable, _insane_ boyfriend staring at him with the creepiest smile in the world.

“What _the fuck?!_ ” Pete screamed scurrying away from the side of the bed that Sonny stood at before beginning to calm down. He put a hand to his chest, as if he could manually slow it. “Are you trying to kill me?!”

“It’s Christmas.”

Pete blinked at Sonny who didn’t continue his sentence. “…is my present a heart attack, because awful gift, babe.”

Sonny rolled his eyes before climbing onto said amazing futon. Crossing his legs, he placed some plastic bags in front of him.

“Do you have containers?” Sonny asked.

Pete, however, had other worries. “You’re in your pajamas? And you’re not wearing shoes, Sonny!”

Immediately, Pete was out of bed and in the suitcase he used to store his socks and underwear.

“Uh, Pete, not the most important thing right now?” Lovely, adorable, _idiotic_ boyfriend.

“It is the most important thing! It’s like twenty-eight degrees outside!” Pulling out his thickest, fluffiest socks, Pete went back to sit on the futon.

He didn’t even try to hand Sonny the socks, just grabbed Sonny’s legs to wrestle them on himself.

“I am capable of putting socks on myself, you know,” Sonny wiggled his toes when Pete was done. “What do you think, doctor? Am I gonna live?”

“You aren’t funny, punk,” Pete mumbled, wiping the rest of sleep from his eyes. Then, he took notice of the new items on his bed. “Uh…what’s this? Also, no, I don’t have tupperware. But I do have a bunch of old food containers, if that works?”

“Duh, that’s what I meant.” Sonny got out of the bed, taking the mystery bags with him, and headed to the postage stamp kitchen.

“Okay, seriously, _what are you doing?”_ Pete asked as Sonny began rummaging around his kitchen. “I literally have one pan, one spoon, and a rubber spatula.”

“Eh, I can make that work…I think.” Sonny looked up at Pete, smiling widely.

Pete knew that smile well: his latest experience with it was when Sonny realized he was expected to speak at his upcoming high school graduation, smarty pants that he is an all.

“Sonny…”

“I want to spend the day with you,” Sonny cracked, nervously avoiding eye contact and looking in drawers and cabinets already searched. “But I need to make my part of the meal and it won’t take long and I can probably do most of it later, but I needed to make sure I don’t need to run out and buy some things.”

Pete groaned, running his hand down his face. “We talked about this, I really don’t care about Christmas-”

“I want you to care about Christmas!” Sonny yelled, slamming one of the cabinet doors and looking at Pete, now silent. He groaned, “That’s not how I meant it, I mean…” He looked down again and Pete could hear the tapping of Sonny drumming the countertop. “I feel like, maybe, you’ve never really been given the chance to enjoy Christmas? And that’s why you don’t care? But, maybe, you can learn to like it…with me?”

Loving warmth grew in Pete’s chest the same rate as suspicion. Lovely, adorable, _genius_ boyfriend who knew exactly how to get himself in places he shouldn’t...

“Sonny, what did you do?” At Pete’s tone, Sonny groaned and laid his head on the counter top.

“I’m sorry, I’m awful and I’m not proud of what I _did_ -”

“Sonny!” Sonny lifted his head up and looked Pete in the eye.

“I looked up your parents,” Sonny bit at his lip, looking at Pete.

Oh, fuck. Pete looked away as he felt heat rising to his face.

“Pete?” He didn’t look at Sonny. “Pete, I’m sorry. I’m – I’m so sorry,” Sonny’s voice sounded choked and, when Pete looked up, he looked close to tears. Sonny began swiping at his eyes, “Fuck, I’ve been kinda emotional the past twenty-four hours.”

Pete stood up and crossed the distance to is tiny boyfriend, wrapping him up and holding him close as Sonny began to officially cry. He ran his hand up and down Sonny’s back, mumbling pleasant nonsense into his fluffy hair.

“You’re fine, Sonny,” Pete mumbled. “Everything’s fine. What are all these tears for?”

“I-I went behind your back,” Sonny coughed through his sobs. “I didn’t ask. And-and I’ve been pushing you to do things-things you didn’t want to do-and I’m sorry-and Ni-Nina’s right, I-I need to listen better.”

“Oh, Christ,” Pete sighed, before grabbing Sonny’s chin and forcing eye contact. “Sonny. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Sonny furrowed his brow, “Relationships are about mutual trust, communication, respect-”

“Sonny, you’re seventeen,” Pete interrupted. “You’re allowed to screw up in relationships, in life, actually, it’s expected!”

It didn’t have the calming influence Pete expected it to, Sonny looking at Pete with more intensity than before, “I don’t want to screw up with you, though.”

…Oh.

Pete felt his throat clog up slightly and he looked up, away from Sonny. Emotions must be catching – though he had had many the night before.

“I don’t want to screw up with you, either,” Pete said, turning back to Sonny. “But I wasn’t exactly the poster-boy of communication either.”

“No, that was you not wanting to talk about a traumatic history that has shaped your entire life path!” Sonny whined. “I had no excuse to demand that from you until you volunteered it and I violated-”

Sonny’s indignant rant took all of three seconds to send Pete into a fit of laughter, even as Sonny complained about Pete’s inability to take his _transgressions_ seriously. Pete sent a silent thank you to the SAT vocabulary cards Sonny all but ate during SAT prep.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a review! They are writing boosters


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